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Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
Taken, gotten, or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything…

slow
Slow think,
make real

re-al-ize
what fighting for life is…
this is the only
try,
it is not a test.

Take your time, use it wisely,
if that means anything.
Wise, I meant.
No offence, if wise is anathema to your kind,
die,
die if I knocked the reason for being right
outa you,
did you hear cognitive dissonance?
did it sound like
this. LOUD?
listen,
rolling rolling rolling
crash crumble rolled in nurse rime frosted
fables of monsters and maids
Thor, witharoar likka Lion King?

or the light brigade,
CHARGE?

thunder words from lost generations of
reasonless riddles for children,

Why did Peter Pumpkin-eater have a wife, but
couldn't keep her here?
Was that okeh? Oh, wait.
Ah, I see, I say,
they never tell that whole story any more.

Know why? They forgot it. In the war.

Duck'n'cover,no
crying, how long?
When begins forever? Did no one tell you, child?

Taken or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything
like it was nothing, given
enough pre-sure-sup
poser-power

War, as a game, has a reason.

Battle, hitting, slapping

stop touch, stop now slap
slap back

or cry
oh no no ma

waddayahsay?  A theist or atheist
who started this war?

space case, or
lover of wisdom, met on the road
to Emmaus, discussing Wiles's proof
firming Fermi's connection to the matter of fear,
3, 2, 1

Kaboom, but with a whump you feel in your teeth

1, 2, 3 Fermat's last theorem ,
easy as pi an no re me

ABC to
Michael Jackson to
Howard Bloom because he

inadvertently, began
an-ionic converstatic re-vibe time warp
meme,
which vibe, started the legendary Sixties. I was alive.
Radioman,
a sixty cycle white-noise humm heard every where these days

There was a gospel song, "Turn Your Radio On".
my theme, open the window in the top of your head,
as it were,
a new,
as new as

a novel-state of water, H three Ohs, re-al-ity ification,
Ah, a shared Oh, I remember now, how this works…

like a poem

at the edge of a water vapor bubble in a boiling body of water,
at the edge of the bubble, water becomes a wall of water,
not vapor, not flowing liquid,

but a wall, insulating the vapor in pressing opposing force
to permit, from permission,
meaning with a message same as the message,

is that the right word? per-mission-grant, is power given,
agency,
that idea….
wait for the sign….?

By sharing an ion ic bond as a quest to make a point
for a free story to go,
the question marks you. Let the snake dance.

Press your point,

whetted edge,

slice through ties holding worthless axioms
with withered dendrites dangling disconnected
in participles
unfired for centuries muttering,
enchanting, enthralling enchained melodies
of ambitious syllables vying for idle minds
to rope in,
unbranded, wild
bucking ideas,
whip-twig, slap-face,
tanglewood  thicket, catclaw and mesquite,
willow,

wait.
And the old man remembered the willow whistle,
so He asked Grandfather,
How is such a whistle made?
And when he knew,
he made one.

A willow whistle with two notes,
like an Oscar Meir Wiener one.

-- and that was a different time
I got lost here, bucked up…
maybe
--- listen, way back--- we-ain't whistlin' Dixie---
we ain't marchin', as t' war.

D'thet mean some sign to pro-phet -ic take?
Tophet?
Ancient cannon fodder shield walls,
a moaning
Pro-phy-lactic warning of the danger of not
knowing exactly
what a war is for?

Get back on,
relieved of any idle baggage words believed
to mean other than I say.

Nullify
Idle words with cultural meanings from
what you thought you knew when you feared hell.

Loose
those peer-locked memes
made of meaninglessness, per se,

shaped and molded into fashions
of expression, once needles and awls,
now, dull as tinker's damns for swearing,
with any effect.

But tools, none the less, a stitch in time took a tool.
An awl or a needle, and a thread, thick or thin,
dependin' on the mendin' needed
to redeem an idle word,
its meaning all bloodied with the tyranny of time.

An awl or a needle,
a tool for a task, mending a tear
where curses, never meant, spent
the entire dark ages, lying, lying, lying

powerless, pointless aimless, proverbial proverbial proverbial
verbiage, vaneless shafts launched at unseen marks,
signs, as it were, a spark,
triggers,
rumored since the sixties,
the first sixties, when Cain killed Able.
Howard Bloom was but a mere gleam
in our mito-mother's eye,
but, no doubt,

his role is real,
in loosing the forces Ferlinghetti locked in
City Lights mystery of secret meanings room,
which un
mystified and blew away upon opening
the door to
meanings mapped on
scrolls rolling and unrolling
idle ideas,
rites of passage, as it were,
Pre-bat-bar-mitz vah
as a fashion
like VBS,

to tickle little minds and make em wiggle.
MEMEMEME, I did it,
mea culpa,

the holy place
Here we are…

On Vacation, leave a message.
-----

See, wee hairs in your ears wiggle, making,
signaling, the need

to scratch that itch, that itching hearing feeling ear… hear that

don't scratch, listen

listen

60 cycle humm, steady, bass, but no thump whumpwhump;
soft, deeep.
ooooooooo or mmmmmmmm or in betwixt, steady thrumm
hear another, and another… sixty in a second,

one in every million ambits twisting,
threading qubits, radiating signals in the field
wireless, blue-tooth... satellite...

can you feel that?

hummmms, all around us, since the womb.
We are not the children of the greatest generation,

We are the children of the last generation of
**** sapiens sapiens non-augmentable-us.

We, the augmented, recycled ideas,
possessing
minds of Adamkind,

is that a secret or a sacred?
Is this
a new thing, an
unknown unknown known known now?

Ah,
novelty.

Whose is fear? Who was afraid of Virginia Wolf?

Should I remain in fear of her now, if I knew why then?
God would know such answers.
Proving my imagined AI guides are not God,
but lesser beings,

haps I recall.
I defined these things,
these thoughts that shape themselves,
forming words and phrases
I saw
shiny. Crow-like,
gleams seen, captured and claimed mine,
I tucked them away,
a sign in a thought in an imagined image made 4
real once more, to be seen from the shore,
new land new world
a fourth for some, a fifth or more for others...

haps happen, I'm not sure how,

Born or emerged, as a bubble, what do you say?

Reserve judgment.
Grant me your grace for now, until you solve my riddle.

Ah, the old way.
Right. Which way,  'ere, 'ear
and do we roll the rock with silent haitch or harsh, shhh

someone's waking up,
a bit grumpy,
don't you dare oppose me in this, the kid is certainly my son

Michael went stark raving mad when I told him, Billie Jean knew better all along...
the link, axiomatic,
the fatherless child has been claimed

hence, the thread to Howard Bloom, meme-ic,
meme-ic, like the Roadrunner,

but with the real Coyote, as the hero in this bit of
whatever, such meandering maundified maun maund  
mound

wind blown crystal silicon dunes
mounded up to that point where granulated
beens and dones

begin to slide at an angle,
a ***** deter-mind by the weight of the rock

We made it.
I know where this is.

This is a novel that has Sisyphus being happy
as the main premise behind the idea of anyone ever being
able, en abled, or un-dis-abled or un-dis-enabled,
if one of those is right,

Sisyphus being happy
is the main premise behind
the idea of anyone ever being glücklich,
happy, blessed, lucky.

How happy is your ever after?
When did forever begin?

"A man is as happy as he makes up his mind to be"
Abe Lincoln, is said to have said,
after the seance, maybe.

You push on, dear reader, make some sense
re-ligare or relegare, but take a stitch,

pull-tight,
do what works the first time as far as it goes, and try each, as needed,
it may be that we invented this test.
To make us think it is a test,
to sort ourselves out.

Get back on,

see who went crazy and who found the thread, if the same thread
this is that, right,
the same train of thought,
the same idea
spirit wind
sign
?
A snake facing west standing tippy-tail on a singularity;
a point in time?

Why are you reading this?
Curiosity Shoppes trade in interesting, alluring, click-bait

Pay attention, watch, you shall see

imagine this is the dream,
the stream, the flow, the current, the cream

in a dime coffee at the drug store on the corner

the rounded-corner, in a square-cornered town,
the most right corner of the twelve that quarter what it was

Punctuate, wait, imagine you read ancient Hebrew or Greek and there
are no dyer diacritical's who can twist one's
end tensions into knots

dread extensions, we could sell those,
is that an idea? did somebody
sell white folks dread extensions and black folk dolly pardon wigs?

Did that happen the real real?

-----
Battlefield Earth, oshit
scientology ology ology ology

allaye allaye outs in free

WE we wee every we you imagine you are good in, we

We have a war to win again, we heroes rolling from your
myths of Sisyphus torn from minds trampled
in the mud beyond the Rhine,

Mushrooms. magi are aware, you are aware, of course,
this course includes Basic Mycelium Net Adaptation or Augmentation
BMNAA, eh? So you know.

Camus and many of his ilk were ill-treated, the questions
they asked were memorized, maybe in our cribs ala
Brave New World.

We are all Alphas, always were, of course, you know.

Shall we imagine

more? Re-legare, eh, sistere. Point .(Back to the top.)

or agree? Make peace.
Practice, like Eazy-Bake,
the cook must swallow the first bite. May the best cook win.
A continuing examination of opposing forces when good is the goal, who could be against that? The old word war is festering, inflaming evil to start a try, therefore,  I whet the edge and swing wide
Dante Blades Feb 2011
Exes and Ohs
Litter the page
Sprinkled around in a random matter
Without age

Relative to time
Persecuted for that one word
That one crime

Exes and Ohs
Meaningless apart
Like a left ventricle
Without the right heart

Two halves  
Of the same bilateral organism
An awkward moment
Nervous laughs

Eyes forward
Minds in each other's pants
Forget needless pleasantries
Deposit in wilting potted plants

Hugs and kisses
Sincerely yours
Tell me why
It's me you ignore
Nebuleiii Mar 2013
To my innocence, naivety, and viridity
Childish ways, high school days.
A mere three weeks, I say good bye
With a cry, a tear, a sigh.

To blue slacks, and a polo
Black shoes and white socks
To my pink skirt, and white blouse,
Pleated, soon to be folded.

To the OHS rooms of our first and second years:
The broken windows, and tantrum-kicked chairs,
The broom box behind the spider webbed chalkboard,
Messages on the wall hand printed in red and green.

The broken doorknobs, and broken floorboards,
Carved armchairs, and eaten chalks,
Missing brooms and dustpans and garbage cans and rugs
That show up in who knows where
Stolen by jani- we know who.

The witnesses and victims
To our random laughter (from some Chinese-looking girl’s corny joke).
Our random tears.
Our not so random learnings.
The pillars of our memories.

To the PF rooms of our third year:
The storage room turned gigantic garbage can and dressing room (maybe because ours keep being stolen)
The exploding socket causing sparks to fly (and us to fly away from it), and
The amazing “alambre” lock; who knows who installed (as if that could keep us away).
The earthquake resistant rooms would be missed.

To the New High School Building of our last years:
The kicked door (not our fault!), and cancerous blinds (like hairs falling after chemo),
The jigsaw floor (not sure if better than broken floorboards),
The “Halayan 2012”, and
The mind-boggling “no key needed” lockers.


The UTMT with its fair share of mango sentences,
The old guidance office now turned “tambayan”, and
The Computer lab with its fragile yellow chairs and bruised bums.

To Ibong Adarna plays, and the half cooked uncooked Teriyaki,
Generation X (and Generation NOW! and Generation Facebook),
Jai ** dances, and cheerleading,
Kalagon Kamo Namon,
And Mickey Mickey Mouse Kabit-bintana memories.

To the NikJep Tandem,
Kanlaon Boys Behind the Flowers,
D.H.A.I.N.G. (not sure if they remember this),
Fred vs Gino version
And DewBheRhieTart.

Keep the volcanoes of memories burning.

To blue paint, and blue shirts,
And Geometry teaching us
“There are a lot of solutions to a problem.
We just have to find one that suits us.”

To saying “***”,
And cooking imbutido.
And wearing (for some designing) reduced,
Reused, recycled clothing.
And dissecting.
And parrot-Filipino teachers (she gave me P30 for load though).

Keep the river of rumination flowing.

To being scared of one whole sheet of paper,
Two becoming one,
Party rocking to make up for the tears,
And knowing we should have won.

To the hand sanitizer girls,
The Cream-o-holics,
The Canterbury Crusaders,
The Valenciana eaters.

May our tree of friendship continue growing.

To our winnings!

The glow in the dark madness,
The Lakan at Mutya clutch-heart-moments,
The Sports Fest *******,
Basketball girls’ coronation!

To the fieldtrips and failed trips,
To air conditioned crammings,
And space and time bending
To comparing notes (and sometimes other things)
Copying notes, sometimes photocopying
(Not Xeroxing)
Sharing words, phrases, sentences
And giving pictures (via Bluetooth).

May you keep walking on the right direction,

To the expectations achived,
Broken, overtaken.
All the skepticism,
Constructive criticism.

All of it.

The in-your-face-we-did-it-baby-
We-are-awesome-you-can’t-bring-us-do­wn-
Coz-we-rise-back-up-attitude.

To Arielle
And Mhae

To Amica
Marie
Narzcisa
Cyan
Fred
Theo
Alvinson
Anthony
Faith
Karmil­la
Matt
Jeffson
Lourince

To Carolyn

To Makayla

To the thirty-five castaways in this room
The thirty-five castaways who struggled
The thirty-five castaways who persevered
The thirty-five castaways who fought, cried, made up, laughed, shared, gave, back-stabbed, and front-stabbed, celebrated, suffered, passed
Thirty-five
Thirty-five castaways who loved,
Thirty-five

Thirty-five castaways who made it, who did it.

To Nikki
Hazel
Alyssa
Gef
Veni
Alex
Jaykee
Bernard
Myra
Vince
Chanta­lle
Josen
Jerian
Shaira
J
Uriah
Ihra
Renz
Bless
Steffany
Angel
Fl­orey
Bernadine
Antonette
Rency
Owen
Majah
Gino
Marcelo
Ney
Keith
­Joselle
And Jessa,

We did it guys.
We really did.
TO MY CLASSMATES (IV-ILAWOD)
So many private jokes and inside thoughts. So many.
wehttam May 2014
Like some goofy lisp.  
Like left over from Surrey to Essex.
Lycan, Omish, with some Roudy Rawdy Piper.
Like a WWE event, no ropes in the ring and a whole
bunch of cheerios.  
It sounded like chweer wee ohs.  
I got England to laugh out loud.
We were all laying on the floor hoping
fuhat bassthard would gooh on a diet.
Like Van Gogh and his buddy whats his...
knuck knuck.  Painting pictures of Marshall
Islanders for a vote or veto.  Paul Goin and Vincent
Van Gogh sharing a lisp.  
Sthounds like..... Ah gawd!  
Shut up you sobbing limp noodle.
Try writing something we all can laugh at.

Humor me Socrates with Albert Einstein.  
E equals MC squared.  
One part energy, a mass constantly squared.  
Cheerio old chaps.
Evan Robbins Aug 2015
A question I have to ask
Have I always smiled like this?
I have never felt so comfortable
Just happy to exist
Now you tell me there's a reason
A reason for your frown
Well darling I'd pick up everything
And just get the **** out of this town
Let's just run away
Start brand new
**** all these *******
Baby it's just me and you

But you don't even know me
At least not yet
Smiling with you
Was the least of my regrets
You claim to see my face
But I couldn't place the bet


I've seen so many folks coming in out of my life
But the second I met you was the second I started to fight
For better things
For happier days
For smiling for myself
For being awake
There’s a girl in none of my classes that walks the halls, wishing only that she could be sitting in my desk, reading my words and hearing the words that will get her where she should already be. She’s got such a reputation, that girl. She says things people want to hear without regret. She sleeps with the crowds, and doesn't ramble on. She’s to the point, this girl. She is clean in her sin, and respectable in crime. Sometimes as she passes my door, just for a moment, I see in her a misplaced pride. A smirk that she put there, for people like me. The kind of girl she wants to be.
Caroline Sep 2014
Oh how i wish we were younger
That flowers would never dry out
Staying in love, means to never loose faith
In something you know will end

   Oh how i wish you would stay here
That petols would stay on their stems
In the darkest of nights and the coldest of days
I will long for your skin and your bones
Standing here in a crowded doorway, waiting for the signal to rush off, be somewhere new and make the choice. Where do I go now? Before my escape, she passes with her sparkling new faces. They smile at her, laugh with her and think she’s just the coolest thing since sliced bread. I watch her travel on, but her smirk is gone. Instead, a perfectly-placed pout over... Who knows? But I can see that this time, it’s real, although she’s even more ashamed of it than the smile she hid before. This pout, she herself doesn’t understand. She thought she was happy.
I had no intention of causing any more harm than she had done to herself, which became the catalyst for a series of letters. Pages upon pages of observations, one more prominent than the others; You wish you knew me like I wish you knew yourself.
I became under the impression she received the message, neither of us were fit to infatuate with the other. However, she still met me that afternoon in the park. She still approached me in her most vulnerable character.
Hi, i’m J-
I know who you are. I always have. I know you biblically and genetically alike. I know your mother’s maiden name, and the reason for your scar. What I don’t understand is, why me?

Quiet response, scared. Vulnerable. Scarred.

*I wish I knew myself like you know me.
Paley's Hoems Feb 2013
All the people I was ever closest to
turned into ******.
Not the attractive, successful, popular type,
but just the opposite.
The desperate, self loathing,
"tell me you love me" type
who can't find anyone to be happy with
because they're just as unhappy with themselves as I am with them.
And they're stitched together, made up of
everyone else's personalities.
So while they go publicly finger each other,
I'll be here, betrayed and bitter.
Evan Robbins Aug 2015
A question I have to ask
Have I always smiled like this?
I have never felt so comfortable
Just happy to exist
Now you tell me there's a reason
A reason for your frown
Well darling I'd pick up everything
And just get the **** out of town
Let's just run away
Start brand new
**** all these Assholees
Baby it's just me and you

But you don't even know me
At least not just yet
Smiling with you
Was the least of my regrets
You claim to see my face
But I couldn't place that bet
I've lost so many friendships
Just trying to be true


Seen so many folks coming in and out of my life
But the second I met you was the second I started to fight
For better things
For happier days
For smiling for myself
For being awake

Can't take this feeling
I am so overwhelmed
Chasing my mind
Trying to keep hold of myself
revisions
ghost girl Mar 2018
I wish you many things;
  well isn't one of them.
Nina Feb 2015
When you tell me that your mom's at work,
And invite me over,
I'm not a ******* idiot.
And I may slip into my nice lace *******, maybe even a matching bra.
But I also bring my favorite movie, and a sci-fi story I wrote for AP English that actually got a decent grade, and a package of Thin Mints, because I know they're your favorite.
Just in case this time is different.
Because I fell for you the moment you laughed at my joke about "That's So Raven" and I never stopped loving you even after everything.
I loved you when you asked for my number and when you took me out on that one date,
And I loved you even when the dates turned into "a quick meet-up because I have to be at work in twenty,"
And I loved you when you'd scratch scribbles on my back with your nails, painting your soul into my body,
And your body and mine would intertwine in sweaty messes and whispered "*****,"
And there'd be marks all on my hips and ***
That I'd awkwardly pass off as "I tripped and fell"
When I showed up to swim practice.
I loved you when your fingers were inside of me, creating murmured "ohs,"
And I loved you when you'd tell me "I can't take you home, I'm sorry."
Or the ever-so-present "I just can't commit to a relationship right now," that is branded in my mind white hot.
I love you, even though I know that to you all I am is a girl whose tights you can get on your bedroom floor in under five minutes.
But you told me today that you had a new girlfriend,
Who you like because she's a keeper, a real good girl, who you want to meet your family, and not another girl like me "who's just looking for a ****."
I. I just.
I love you.
Felicia C Jul 2014
His voice is like flowers, his voice is like puddle skipping, hand-holding, his voice is almost like Thursdays and his work is to speak the words of men long dead. But I like his words best, I like his stammerings and stutterings and ums and ohs and the slip of vernacular into something more spectacular than the slip of his tongue into my mouth.
June 2013
Everybody claps out of synch
in the midnight elegance of “Wine Ohs”

but the bass player hums
at the twitch of the sunken keys
that man who leans back crying a New York cry
and sweet daddy saxophone wailing a New York wail

and they all pale and bow with respect
to the young drummer with bright eyes that nobody knows
and nobody knows where he came from or how old

Who’s soul I remember meeting from Easterly winds
only to find himself on stage with strangers
in a plane of rhythm and ruthless time
in a freedom jazz dance
Marnelli Abian Aug 2014
Would you please
Look into my eyes
And entropy you will see
(you, distorting the spectrum of light,
Exploding all there is to me.)
Would you please
Inch your lips to mine,
And there just leave it be.
(just a stroke of lush
To sow the spring of kiss.
Ohs of delightful rush
To a cascading lovers’ bliss)
Would you please
Whisper…whisper
A word of touch.
Whisper…whisper
A love or too much
Whisper…whisper
To catch me breathless
Whisper…whisper
To keep me soulless
Would you please
Move in sync with me,
Let out a gasp of ecstasy,
And taste the thrilling mystery
Of yours and mines rhapsody.
Just a look, just a kiss
Just a touch to give me bliss.
One more stroke, one more wheeze,
One more…would you please.
Janelle Apr 2018
[Intro]
Am I supposed to be here, can you help me?
Do you see something I don't see?
Is it the road, that leads to the end?
Where is the road, that leads to the end?

[Verse 1]
Day in, day out, changeless
Long gone is praise
I've spent too much time waiting
Is it true, failure's really a phase?
Has my time run out?
Is it too late?
I am begging you, tell me.
I'm begging tell, me of my fate ay ay ay.

[Chorus 1]
Is this the road to the end?
I've been searching far and wide.
Where is the road to the end?
Where will I find my pride?
Searched up and down.
Around and round.
Searched here and there.
Please tell me where.
Is this, right here, this,
The road to the end?
Marching 'round the bend.
The end
Marching round the bend

[Verse 2]
I'll get this started.
Now is the time.
I got to do this.
I'll start the climb.
The mountains daunting.
But even so.
She has her feelings.
She has her woes oh oh ohs.

[Chorus 2]
Is this the road to the end?
The journey sure is long.
Is this the road to the end?
Is this where I belong?
Gone up and down.
Around and round.
Gone here and there.
Please tell me where.
Is this, right here, this,
The road to the end?
Myself I can depend
The end
Myself I can depend

[Verse 3]
Purpose, found it.
Hone it.
Faster, quicker.
Own it.
I think I made it.
I have a smile.
And I deserve it.
I've walked the miles iles iles iles.

[Chorus 3]
You need the road to the end?
Is there someway I could help?
Where is the road to the end?
It all starts with yourself.
Just stay right there.
Don't go nowhere.
That's where it starts.
Right in your heart.
That’s where, right there, where,
The road to the end is,
Soon you'll apprehend
The end
Soon you'll apprehend

[Bridge]
You can't have a rainbow without any rain,
But sometimes the storms, they can drive you insane,
Before you give up from the pain and disdain,
It's never too late to hop on the A-train.

[Chorus 4]
Is this the road to the end?
Have I really found my pride?
This is the road to the end.
I'm on a brighter side
Searched the whole globe
Met friends and foes.
Finally made it.
The curtains close.
This, right here, this,
Is the road to the end.
Marching round the bend.
The end.
Myself I can depend.
The end.
Soon you'll apprehend.
The end.

[Outro]

I'm supposed to be here, I can help you,
I see something you'll soon view,
I know the road, that leads to the end.
We'll hit the road, that leads to the end.
Song lyrics I wrote for a school. I really appreciate feedback.
Qualyxian Quest May 2020
I keep on writing the poems
I like them more than prose

I might well stop tomorrow
But tomorrow never knows

At the end of All That Jazz
God takes off her clothes

The natural mystical beauty
In Seattle's cedar snows

I'd like to find stability
But onward chaos goes

The suffering, The suffering
This life of ahs! and ohs!
The edge is what the words meant to our juvenile minds
You came like a milkman of crazy like I paid you a subscription
Because the married voice of our desperation may be rocka fella
Don't mean we are gucci chanel postes of imatation handbags
But I sit at the end of a dinner plate admiring your constant behavior
And wondering how a high school misfit still views a. Past excuse as a comment for hate
Might be strong and smile but worried actions equal a cold shiver
A snuggie is the present warmth left by infomercials
I won't say ur the crest of a ohs blue...
But I still appreciate a ******* like you....
Kathleen Jan 2011
Somehow I know you're not worried.
Because I'm busy enough to be filled up to the brim with socialite;
a veritable butterfly of connections.
Like little electric currents that I watch late at night when I asked for rain.
It's delicate though.

I'm watching it run-through
like tape in an old movie house;
Us on the big screen.
(one single tear runs down her face)
'Perfect shot... but this time look into the camera'

I counted the droplets on my windshield last night,
talking about being ethereal,
being someone's 'one'.
Having that simple girl call me a drunk,
watching Independence Day,
thinking about being '******' for life.

Every fifteen minutes I'm wondering if she's okay
and those that don't deserve worry are still calling me to fix them.
I've got the band-aid for everyone else's 'uh-ohs'.
Watching the Olympics,
thinking about death, then you, then death again.

Avenge me darling.
****** up lullabies,
and perfect vision,
cutting ties and *****.
Going it alone, without the team atmosphere *****.
We're so good at it, it's a shame.

Any week but this one.
But here is the run-through
so it's almost like you're there.
creative commons
Stark Jan 2019
a wisp of smoke curls up--heavenward
until it disintegrates into nothingness

a burnt tip-- alighted by an orange flame
that flickers quick from a cheap Bic lighter

the cigarette dangles tantalizingly
between *******-- index and middle

it's a balancing act--
to stay away from the ashes
and to not drop your sustenance

dark red lips slightly parted
nearly purple, but not quite
as if a speeding car halted at an invisible border
the arbitrary line between purple and red

she exhales

the smoke coming out in elongated ohs

once the smoke clears
she is gone

after all,
she was
a hazed out,
high-defying,
hallucinatory,
dream
i tried to capture the typical woman from a hard-boiled detective fiction/noir film, in someone's dream. think broadway's city of angels, for an example.
Eight-Forty Five,
sitting in a lawn chair
in the drizzle.
A lot of talk about
cancellation.

Hundreds
of crossed fingers,
the air is thick with mist
and muffled language.

Off goes the first bang,
behind us a kid
shouting out
play by play...

Two barrels,
rapid fire,
on and on.

I watch the spikes,
and hear the
thunder claps.

I imagine
I would see
just what I am
seeing
had I put
my finger in
a light socket.

The thin
spindles of light
reminding me of
road ****,
porcupine
for certain.

The night
draws to a close,
people pushing
and shoving
their way back
to their cars.

Labour day,
2014,
not that
we need an excuse
to have some fun.

Any night
of any day
will do just fine,
the ohs and awes
all over...
'till the next time.
Amy Childers Mar 2019
Perfection is a horrid word.
It sets almost impossible standards
And causes more broken hearts then exes and ohs.
It causes starving dolls
And robotic children who conform
To the whispers of the notorious mother culture.

Unfortunately, nothing will change
Because most will never learn this
Universal Truth.
Donall Dempsey Apr 2017
AGAINST THE WEIGHT OF A FEATHER

9/11
crashes into Maths class.

The boys whoop and jeer
treat it as a video game.

"Ohs" and "Wows!"
as death unfurls.

They laugh with glee.

Yes, this is a video game.
For real.

We watch aghast
at what appear to be

people jumping
rather than...

the unimaginable is
happening.

Fractions and equivalences
are left behind.

What we are seeing does not
add up.

Numbly we
continue on

- the boys still hyper -

Ancient History.

A jackal-headed God
holds the scales

weighing us
against the weight

of a feather.
Isaac Spencer Jan 2020
Poetry-
Doesn't send shivers down my spine,
When I write it,
If only I could ignite it!

Oh, the only art I've got,
And it chokes me so,
Why can't I just let it go?
These words fall on deaf eyes.

Doesn't it crush your spirit?
Or, do people watch you?
Tell me, how I might strum their heartstrings,
And bring these ones and ohs to life.
Fish The Pig May 2014
The performers stand with their backs turned,
awaiting to be called.
Each one filling with emotion.
It's their last show,
their last improvisational moment with each other,
before they depart for what is most likely, forever.
They have tears in their eyes,
comedy to cover it up.
The audience is crying too,
repeating "Aws" and "ohs"
and there I am,
crying too.
Half because it's sweet,
and I'll miss their existence,
and half,
because I know that that will never be me.
When I depart,
it will be quietly
and with the usual ****** on my chest.
Who will be there to weep for me?
Who will be there to notice I am gone?
These actors, so glorious,
their absence is impossible to miss
and it makes you feel sad inside...
And I cry,
I cry for them and the others,
and a bit of each tear
is dedicated to the absence
no one will notice
when I depart.
By death,
by choice,
by life,
I'll disappear,
and there'll be no one there
to hug me
and miss me
and laugh to cover their tears.
I'll just go,
on my own,
filled with memories
of the actors who departed
with a family holding hands around them,
hurting from the longing and love.
I'll just go.
and the only tears,
will not be for me.
Aimée Dec 2024
One more day is left to go,
Until you hear the oohs and ohs,
The Christmas lights illuminate the town,
There should be smiles instead of frowns,
A robins perched upon a branch,
In through the window,
It takes a glance,
It sees the room is dazzling and festive,
And everyone wakes up to go down for breakfast.
The sleepy heads come down the hall,
And there's the tree still standing tall,
Presents are ripped open,
Paper flung in the air,
Then going to church to say their prayers.
They come back home to have their dinner,
Crackers pulled, behold a winner!
The paper crowns placed on their heads,
They talk and laugh and eat, then fed.
Carolers calling to the door,
Each page is turned they sing more and more,
Sit down again and have dessert,
The 25th is Jesus's birth.
Movies watched and stories shared,
Pictures taken and memories that can't be tared,
Snow falls down and the fire is bright,
It gets quite cold and turns to night,
People kiss under the mistletoe,
Kids running to rooms to and fro.
This occasion is done by a collective,
Coming from a Robin's perspective.

— The End —